


A King's Desire

by Queen_Richard (Palatinedreams)



Category: 12th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Original Work, Richard I. the Lionheart -Fandom
Genre: Bittersweet, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Healing Sex, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Past Abuse, Romance, mentioning of characters from Ivanhoe, mentioning of slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palatinedreams/pseuds/Queen_Richard
Summary: When Richard I. of England comes back to his castle from a visit at Rotherwood, he stumbles over a young servant with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard. His encounter with the nameless young man will change his life forever, and Richard has to face the truth - that the desire he feels as the man Richard does not match with the desire a king should feel, the desire to finally find true love...
Relationships: Blondel de Nesle/Richard I of England
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	A King's Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arrested](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrested/gifts).



> Dear Arrested,
> 
> this story wouldn't exist without you and your amazing series, and it's so very close to my heart as your Wamba and Oscar are. I'm so happy that I can finally give it back to you! <33

Autumn had colored the leaves red and orange-golden when Richard finally returned to London after his necessary visit to the north of his country during the summer months.

The king was in a strange and almost melancholic mood, his thoughts wandering back to his stay in Rotherwood while he rode through the open front gates of his castle. Lord Cedric was a true Saxon by origin, heart and mindset, and yet he'd proved to be one of his most loyal acolytes - opposite to so many Norman nobles that had betrayed him and conspired with his brother the minute he'd turned his back on them to fight in the Holy Land for the glory of the Christian Church.

Richard might have forgiven his brother for what he'd done, but John's former allies in his attempts to bereave Richard of his crown and his rightful sovereignty were a different kind of matter. Richard had shown no mercy on them, and he'd come to value Lord Cedric's loyalty and honesty highly and more than he'd ever thought possible. The Saxon did not bend his head easily, and surely not before a king who wasn't worth his faithfulness and trust. They had to be earned through actions - as empty words and promises could be given easily but with no honest intentions behind them as history told them - and Richard was grateful that he'd proven himself to be worthy of both, and that Cedric had accepted him as his rightful sovereign at last.

But this was not the only thing that kept Richard's mind occupied these days. Witnessing the deep bond between Cedric and his young slave Wamba had stirred something deep inside Richard's heart that he'd buried there a long time ago, the wish to find true love and someone who returned his desire for love with the same passion. Love and desire were not meant for kings though, and the love of their subjects would always be the only love kings were expected to ever truly desire.

But Richard was not only a king, he was also a man with wishes and desires of his own, and the man Richard couldn't help but wish to find someone who'd look at him at least once like Wamba was looking at his master, with so much devotion and unquestioning love that it had made Richard's heart ache with both wistfulness and regret.

They didn't show their deep love for each other openly as Cedric was not the man carrying his heart on his tongue, but Richard was attentive to the subtle, had always been, and the deep and strong bond between his noble host and the young slave had been obvious and palpable to him.

Maybe he was getting old after the long years of war and constant fighting Richard thought as he made his way to his private chambers later, still lost in contemplation about his visit at Rotherwood.

His long captivity in Austria and Germany had changed him as well, and the desires he'd suppressed successfully for so long rose their heads and made his heart and body ache and his mind restless and heavy with worries and doubts.

The tunes of a wistful serenade echoed between the grayish walls all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, and the most beautiful voice Richard had ever listened to caught his attention when he turned around the corner a little bit too fast, the melancholy and longing so clearly to detect in the song slowing his usually well-trained reaction time down considerably.

Richard couldn't stop his feet in time and bumped into the figure that was crouching in the middle of the floor, bent over its task of scrubbing the stones of the long corridor until they would shine and sparkle, worthy for a king to set his royal feet on them on his way to his chambers – and the heavenly voice filling the dark corridor with life was not matching with the scene in front of his eyes at all.

The beautiful singing stopped as abruptly as Richard did at last, dirty water splashing over the rim of the bucket sitting on the stones beside the servant that appeared to be a boy with red-blond hair. Big amber-golden eyes stared at him wide with shock, as beautiful as his voice, and they darkened with fear and recognition of Richard's status before the young servant quickly lowered his gaze down at his king's leather boots, wet and dirty from the water now.

“I'm so sorry, your majesty, so sorry. I didn't mean to cause any inconvenience or insolence. Here, please let me wipe the mess...” His voice trailed off, choked and trembling, but Richard could still detect the sheer beauty of it, not fully covered by the horror their almost crash had aroused in the boy, an almost unworldly beauty that had captured him so much right with the first tune. 

The king knelt down without any regard of his royal coat soaking wet with the water now as well, putting a gentle hand under the boy's trembling chin. It resisted the soft push at first, but then he looked up at Richard, and the king lost himself in those amber-golden depths for a moment or two before he'd composed himself again and was able to offer a reassuring smile to the scared servant.

He was more a young man than actually a boy as Richard could see with their faces so close to each other now, but the innocence of youth had yet to abandon his handsome angular features, and his slim frame and the long limbs of his just recently achieved adulthood had deceived Richard about the servant's real age in the gloomy surroundings of the corridor.

Richard's royal right captured the slim and pale wrist when the young man started to wipe frantically at his ruined boot, and his heart clenched in his chest when the boy instinctively flinched away from his touch, his already pale face turning snow-white with something akin to mortal fear before he had his expression back under control again. He'd seen this look in another young man's eyes before, and he knew what it meant. It was clear that this servant had made the same experiences in his short life as Wamba had done in the past, and that he expected Richard to be like those who'd harmed him just because they had the power to do that.

“Don't fret, lad. It was my fault, not yours. I didn't pay attention to where I was going, so I'm the one who has to apologize, not you.”

“But your boots, your coat, your majesty! You shouldn't lower yourself down and kneel here in the mess that is all my fault...” The young man made another weak attempt to pull his hand out of Richard's firm grip and wipe his boots, but Richard shook his head and took the useless cloth out of his trembling fingers. His hand fell down into the puddle of dirty water when Richard released it from his grasp, and the servant swallowed and blinked, confused about Richard's so unkingly behavior. “Please punish me as you see fit for my clumsiness and insolence, sire,” he murmured, and Richard had to swallow around the lump in his throat before he could speak.

“I surely won't punish you for the accident I caused with my careless behavior. What's your name, lad?”

The amber-green eyes flickered to Richard's face before they traveled around the corridor as though he was searching for a way to escape him, finally settling on a spot at the wall somewhere behind Richard's back. “Rat, sire,” he mumbled, and Richard blinked. “Rat?!” he inquired, not sure that he'd heard right as the boy's voice had barely been more than a hushed whisper.

“Or brat, whipping boy, whor...” he swallowed the word he'd just wanted to say down and inhaled a shaky sigh. “... or fool if this suits you better to address the clumsy servant that I am, sire.” The boy refused to meet Richard's shocked and horrified glance, and Richard schooled his features into a mask of friendly calm by sheer willpower as he knew that the young servant would think his wrath to be aimed at him – which couldn't be further from the truth.

“I wish to know your real name, lad, the name your parents chose for you,” he said as gently as possible, but with an urgent undertone as his trained ears could hear the footsteps of his manservant and his guards approach. He'd told them that he wanted to be alone for a while, but it was almost time for dinner, and there was not much time left for him to change into fresh clothes before he would have to charm and please his court at the dinner table.

“I'm sorry, your majesty, but I don't remember my birth name. My parents died when I was still very young, and nobody ever called me by my birth name ever since their death again, only rat or one of the other names I told you.”

“I see,” Richard said, “I consider it my most royal duty then to find a suitable name for you, lad.”

The young man gasped, and his eyes drifted back to him, wide with shock and disbelief. He swallowed, opened his mouth and closed it again as if he wanted to object but were too afraid to reject the king's offer.

“You honor me, sire,” was all he eventually mumbled, but it was apparent to Richard that it was a lie, the tension in the young man's slumped shoulders betraying his feelings. Whether he didn't find himself worthy to receive a new name from his king himself - or if he rather feared that Richard would just go with another epithet – that was hard to tell, and Richard knew that he had only one chance to do this right and prove to the young man that not all nobles were cruel monsters that drew pleasure out of abusing their entrusted charges.

“As you have such beautiful red-golden hair, I will call you Blondel in the future,” Richard said, surprised about the name that had just slipped from his tongue himself. He didn't even have to think about the perfect name for the boy, Blondel had come so naturally to his mind when he'd looked at him that he couldn't think of any suitable name other than the one he'd just uttered.

The young servant made a soft noise of surprise in the back of his throat, and the gratitude showing in his eyes tightened Richard's chest again. “Thank you, sire,” Blondel whispered, reminding the king of Wamba again, and he rose to his feet just when the footsteps turned around the corner and his guards and his manservant arrived at the scene.

“Hubert, call for another servant to wipe the floor,” he said to his manservant, who nodded his head and waved at one of the guards to carry out the king's order immediately. “At once, sire.” 

Richard nodded contentedly, turning his gaze back to the young man who reminded him so strongly of Cedric's faithful companion. “Blondel will join me at the dinner table – his beautiful voice is meant to be heard and appreciated by a much more attentive and grateful audience than those cold and lifeless stonewalls here. Would you do me the pleasure and sing for me and my court tonight, Blondel? I don't think that I've ever listened to anything as beautiful as your voice actually is.”

Blondel's pale cheeks blushed in a wonderful pink color, and Richard felt something flutter in his stomach. “It would be my greatest honor and pleasure to sing for you and your court, your majesty.”

“So you'll be my personal minstrel from now on, Blondel,” Richard decided, gesturing at him to follow him as he continued his way to his private chambers at last, and Blondel followed him with wondrous eyes shining as golden as his hair shone in the orange rays of the setting autumn sun, proving the king's choice of name for his new bard to be perfectly right.

*~*~*

Hubert did a true miracle by finding clothes that suited Blondel's new position and task much better than his stained and scratchy tunic right in time for Richard to be punctual at the dinner table, together with an old harp that must belong to the things John had left behind when his older brother had reclaimed his crown and chased his brother from his throne again.

Blondel was seated on a small stool before the king's table, and Richard found his eyes drawn to him every other minute, caught by the sparkling sight in front of him. The young man wore a rich yellow-golden tunic with long sleeves over tight pants now, their color a shimmering dark-green that almost appeared to be black. Soft beige leather boots enclosed his feet now, reaching up to his calves, and his red-blond hair was shimmering like precious gold in the light of the candelabras that illuminated the knight's hall. His eyes were dark in his pale face, and he kept them on the harp in his lap, coaxing soft and wistful sounds out of it while he sang about the beauty of England green hills and the ache and longing of unrequited love.

The nobles and their ladies that had been invited to this official dinner seemed to find the food on their plates much more interesting than Blondel's performance though, making quite a lot of noise as they ordered their squires and servants to refill their goblets and their plates once more before they were even empty, and Richard clenched his fist around his knife and wished that he could just tell them to leave him alone with a sudden rage that even blurred his vision.

He knew that he owed them after the money they had paid for his freedom, but this knowledge didn't serve to calm his anger down when Blondel did his best to sing against the noise and make himself be heard without missing the right tune, and Richard was once more reminded of Lord Cedric and Rotherwood, of the deep care and respect Cedric's people showed not only to their lord, but also to Wamba, never giving him the feeling that he was just a slave and therefore deep down below them.

“Your brother never appreciated the fine arts of music and poetry as much as you're obviously doing, sire.”

Richard turned his head to his left, irritated at the distraction from Blondel's song. “My little brother John has never been gifted with the right senses you'd need to understand and appreciate music and poetry, Lord Jarvis,” he said as evenly as he was able to when he saw who'd dared to disturb him. Lord Jarvis came from the north like Lord Cedric, and Richard wasn't so sure where his true loyalties lay, but the older noble had been clever enough not to support his brother John as openly as other lords had done, and Richard needed real proof of his real intentions before he could decide about his trustworthiness and further actions.

What he did know for sure though was that he didn't like the way Lord Jarvis was staring at Blondel with greedy eyes, appraising him like a horse or a cow he wanted to buy. “It's a good thing that you do that, sire,” the Norman now stated, licking his lips, “... appreciate the boy's true talents, I mean.” His voice had a strange undertone, and his words sent a cold shiver down on Richard's spine. He'd already suspected something like that after what he knew about Wamba's fate, and by thinking back of the one suspicious word that had almost slipped Blondel's tongue before he'd been able to swallow it down, but hearing his suspicion proved right like that made a new wave of hot fury pool in his stomach.

“Your words make me believe that you already knew about Blondel's existence before you saw him tonight, Lord Jarvis?” he asked with a curiously raised eyebrow and an expression that gave nothing away of his true feelings. “You must be in possession of a good memory for faces and voices, then – as remembering a single face among so many nameless and faceless servants my brother made see to his comforts is for certain an astonishing and very useful skill that is hard to find among my court these days.”

Lord Jarvis bowed his head in acknowledgment of the 'compliment' Richard had just made, not trying to hide the pleased and cruel smile playing around his rubbery lips.

“I have indeed had the pleasure to make the acquaintance of this lovely bird before tonight, sire,” he agreed a little bit too eagerly. “The deceased lord of Torquilstone held his ownership of your new bard before he decided that it would suit his own fortune better if he gifted your brother with a special proof of his unwavering loyalty towards him – when we were all still fearing that you would never come home to be our rightful sovereign again, sire,” Jarvis added silkily, “not that I ever doubted your safe return to us – and I never supported your brother's desires to claim your throne, as I want to point out. But times were difficult back then and required a lot of diplomacy regarding my neighbors, so I couldn't recline Torquilstone's invitations without arousing suspicions as you surely understand, your majesty.”

“I certainly do understand the necessity of diplomacy, Lord Jarvis.” Richard tore his eyes away from Blondel to look at the devious Norman. “Blondel's beautiful voice and his songs must have been a source of comfort for you then when you were forced to sit at Torquilstone's table and endure his hospitality.”

Lord Jarvis was obviously not as clever and cautious as Richard had given him credit for, because he smiled conspiratorially at him and leaned in to share the more intimate parts of his acquaintance with Blondel with him. “His voice is not the only beautiful thing about him, sire, even though I enjoyed listening to his sweet... cries a lot. Your bard is gifted with a lot of skills, the way he's playing the harp so sinfully with his long fingers is just another proof of it. Your brother sadly didn't appreciate this outstanding gift he received, and he said that his rightful place would be on his knees, scrubbing the dirt from the stones he was walking upon, instead.”

“My dear brother met Torquilstone's gift of loyalty with only little gratitude then as it would seem. But that's how John has always been, he could never show gratitude towards those who meant well with him.” 

“You're so right, sire, and we're all so happy and grateful to have you back. England will bloom and blossom under your wise reign again, your majesty, I'm sure of that. I will do my very best to be one of your most faithful guards in the north and if you'll ever grow tired of your bard's singing, I'd be happy to grant him a new home under my humble roof.”

Richard raised both of his eyebrows this time. “Oh, I'm sure that you would do that, Lord Jarvis. But that's not likely to happen as I take great pleasure in music and poetry when my time allows me to indulge myself in those fine arts, so I don't think that I will ever grow tired of the beauty of his voice and ever come to think of sending him away.”

“Hmm. Maybe you'll want to share his... voice with your most loyal lords once in a while so we can enjoy his truly outstanding... performance as well, sire? Please remember me if you'll ever think of doing that,” Lord Jarvis said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

Richard smiled at him, and he was certain that Lord Cedric would have taken his 'smile' for what it actually was if he'd been here – the bared teeth of a lion that was about to attack his prey and rip their still beating heart out of their chest.

“Don't you doubt that I will remember you when the time is right, Lord Jarvis, don't you ever doubt that. I never forget those I... owe something.”

Lord Jarvis beamed at him, unaware of the danger looming over him and the threat in Richard's promise.

“You're too kind, your majesty, you're really too kind.”

Richard's smile deepened. “I'm doing my best, Lord Jarvis.”

*~*~*

Blondel was waiting for him in his study when Richard entered it three hours later, wearing a confused and wary expression on his face, although he tried to appear nonchalant and untroubled. Richard closed the door and Blondel went down on his knees before him.

“Your majesty?” he said in some kind of question, and Richard sighed and gently reached out with his hand to pull him up again. Blondel had learned to hide his defiance and his agile mind from the cruel world he'd been thrown into, but Richard knew that they were there, and he would not let Blondel play the dumbfounded and servile servant when they were alone. A servant was not what Richard longed for, and he had learned to judge people by their mindset and virtues instead of their standing during his long captivity and after his return to England to reclaim his rightful throne, especially after his visit to Rotherwood and seeing Wamba again.

“Don't kneel before me, Blondel,” he said, feeling tired down to his bones all of a sudden.

Blondel slowly rose back to his feet, and Richard was struck by his natural elegance and the unbroken will to live that was glowing in his amber-green eyes. “As you wish, sire. Do you want me to undress, then?”

“Undress?” Richard's mind was slow on the uptake due to his fatigue, and he blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“That's why you called for me at this late hour, isn't it, sire?”

Richard glanced at him, his eyes sweeping over Blondel's face, the tight set of his jaw and the proudly lifted chin. “I have done a lot of things I deeply regret, Blondel, and I am many things, a king, a knight, warrior and crusader, and I've even been a captive and hostage. I am a son and a brother, a friend and I've been a rebel, a judge, a lawyer and an avenger many times, but one thing I've never been, and I do not plan to ever change that. I've never been a rapist, and I didn't require your company here to add myself to the long list of your noble abusers.”

“It would be your right to demand my submission and my services as my new lord and owner, sire. Taking what's rightfully yours would never be considered rape.”

“Maybe not by law and old customs, Blondel, but surely by my own regards and standards. I've never taken someone against their will, and I could never draw pleasure out of raping an unwilling partner. You're safe with me, and I won't let anybody else have you against your explicit consent at any time in the future again.”

Blondel looked surprised and mistrustful in equal measures, and Richard couldn't really blame him for his cautiousness. “So why did you call for me at this late hour, sire? Shall I sing for you again?” Blondel's voice was hoarse and strained after the three hours of constant singing for his king, and Richard shook his head.

“No, Blondel. I love listening to your voice, but I can see that you're aching after your long performance during dinner. When was the last time you've eaten properly?”

“Oh.” Blondel frowned. “I don't know, yesterday I think?” he said slowly, and Richard made a mental note to ask his housekeeper about the eating habits of his servants. He pointed at his desk where a platter with food was sitting, cold meat, bread, cheese and fruits that were left from his dinner table.

“Sit down and enjoy your dinner then, Blondel,” he said, stalking over to his desk to sit down in his comfortable chair that was placed behind it. There was another smaller chair before the heavy wooden piece of furniture, and Blondel approached it reluctantly, sitting down on the edge of the seat and regarding the generous amount of food on the plate. “Thank you, sire, but this is far too much for one person.”

“Just eat as much as you can, Blondel,” Richard encouraged him, and Blondel sighed and reached for the plate. “Yes, sire.” Richard leaned back in his chair, feeling peaceful and content for the first time on this straining day, and he allowed his thoughts to wander back to Rotherwood and Lord Cedric, who was a Saxon through and through, opposed to almost everything that appeared to be Norman, and yet Richard felt closer to him than to any of the other lords that belonged to his court, except for Cedric's son Wilfried, that is. 

Cedric had no interest in splendid clothes and opulent dinners, no patience for false pleasantries, and he came across almost gruffy and rude sometimes, but he was honest, loyal and trustworthy, and he cared deeply for his charges, virtues Richard considered to be the only relevant ones. It was no wonder that Wamba loved his master as much as he did, and Richard promised to himself that he would win Blondel's trust like Cedric had gained Wamba's trust as he watched the young man eat, no matter how long it would take him to achieve this goal.

*~*~*

Autumn progressed, and the seed of trust and friendship that had been planted on fertile ground on that evening after Richard's first encounter with Blondel quickly grew into a still rather small but strong tree as they spent more and more time together.

Richard loved nothing more than to sit in his private living room and listen to Blondel's beautiful voice, the few times when he allowed himself to let his guard down and be the man Richard instead of the strong monarch he had to be most of the time.

“You look troubled today, my King Richard. What is it that is weighing on your mind so heavily?” Blondel was sitting at Richard's feet, his harp lying forgotten in his lap. Richard smiled down at him, marveling how much Blondel had changed in such a short amount of time. The shy and scared boy had grown into a confident young man, and he possessed a wisdom and sensitivity no young man should have, and which came from the terrible experiences he'd had to endure in his childhood.

“My minister reminded me today that I need to find a suitable wife. England needs a queen and most of all a heir, and I'll have to choose my queen among the young ladies and princesses that are not already promised to another, choosing carefully because of my responsibilities towards my country and my subjects. They deserve to have a queen that will put their needs before her own and be the caring mother they've been missing for far too long.”

Blondel gazed up at him, a small frown creasing his smooth forehead. “But what about your needs and your wishes, my King Richard? What about love? You deserve to have a wife who truly loves you with all her heart.”

Richard made a vague gesture with his hand. “Love is not made for kings, Blondel. All I can hope for is that we will not despise each other like my parents did. This would already be more than enough. I know where my duties lie.”

“Will the man Richard be fine with the choice the king Richard has to make?” Blondel inquired, and Richard looked down at him with a regretful smile. “The man Richard has no say in that. What he wants or desires is not important.”

“The man Richard is a good man, my king. He deserves love and happiness.”

“As would you, Blondel.”

Blondel averted his eyes from Richard's intense gaze. “Your well-being and happiness is my source of joy, sire. I don't need more than that to be content.”

“Contentment is not the same as happiness. Don't you long for love, Blondel?”

“How could anyone love someone like me? The scars I'm wearing must be despicable for everyone with a sense for beauty, sire. Love is not meant for people like me either, my King Richard.”

There was a long silence between them, until Richard finally dared to ask the question he'd mused about for a long time. “Do you want to tell me what happened to you after your parents' death? Do you trust me enough to share your story with me, Blondel?”

“It's not a matter of trust, your majesty,” Blondel said, “but it's not the sort of stories that are meant for royal ears.”

“Let me decide what kind of stories I want to hear, Blondel. What kind of king would I be if my royal ears couldn't endure hearing what you had to endure for real – all those cruelties that have been done to you when you were nothing more than a boy who couldn't defend himself and had no one to do that for you.”

Blondel looked down at the harp in his lap for some time, and Richard didn't rush him, waiting patiently for the young man to open up to him.

“I was raised in a small village together with two sisters. My parents never had enough money to feed us, but they worked hard and never lost their laughter and their faith in God. A fever let both of them die within a few days when I was five years old, and the merchant my parents had owed a lot of money took our small house to make up for the loss he suffered because of their sudden death. He let my sisters and me work for him in his tavern, and when I couldn't carry the heavy buckets without spilling water or sweep the tavern fast enough he sold me to the Lord of Torquilstone. My new master was a cruel man who loved to torture and abuse me, and he used me to make new allies and friends by offering me to his guests as a willing companion to warm their beds at night.”

Richard felt sick to his stomach, but he listened quietly, regretting deeply that he couldn't take revenge on Blondel's cruel tormentor anymore, and that he hadn't known Blondel and what he'd had suffered from the lord's hand before Torquilstone had been destroyed. Wamba and Blondel had much more in common that Richard had already thought that they had, and he instinctively reached out to stroke the shiny red-golden strands of Blondel's soft hair and offer silent comfort that could never be enough to ease the searing pain Blondel must still feel at the memories he was recalling only because Richard had asked him to do.

“During the feasts he enjoyed to indulge his friends by letting me sing and dance in the knight's hall wearing nothing more than a short tunic to present me to them, and I never found out why he changed his mind and offered me to your brother after several years had passed this way. Prince John had no interest in taking me in his bed, and my singing reminded him of you because you love music and poetry so much, so he ordered his housekeeper to make me one of the lowest servants and let me clean the stony floors with a small scrub until they would shine and sparkle – worthy for a king to walk upon them without getting his boots dirty. That's what I did until you laid your kind royal eyes on me and found me worthy enough to become your minstrel, sire.”

There was surely much more to tell, but Richard had heard enough, and there was no need to force Blondel to relive more of the horrible things that had been done to him. “Words can't describe how sorry I am that I wasn't there to protect you, Blondel. I was absent from my country and the people I'd sworn to serve and protect for far too long, and I regret it more than I can say.”

“You followed the call of the Church and did what you had to do, sire,” Blondel consoled him, even though it should be Richard trying to console Blondel.

“I cannot undo what happened to you, Blondel, but I swear to God and you that I will always protect you as long as I live. You'll never have to fear that I would ever allow something like that to happen to you again. You'll never have to serve the ugly desires of cruel men abusing the power they've been given again. Powers can be taken away again if the owners prove themselves unworthy to have them, and that I will do until there's no one left merely thinking of abusing and torturing their charges like that.”

Blondel smiled at him, leaning against Richard's royal leg as he unconsciously sought his comforting touch. “Thank you, sire. Knowing that you will not allow the lords entrusted with their people's well-being to betray the trust and power they've been given is all I need to be happy – this and your obvious joy when you listen to my songs, my King Richard.”

“I will never grow tired of listening to your beautiful voice, Blondel,” Richard assured him gently, and Blondel returned his smile and took his harp to sing another song about true love for his king, his voice filling the king's private chamber and his heart until the shadows of his worries had been chased away and only joy and hope for a better future for England was left.

*~*~*

The trees had lost their last leaves and people huddled together in the search of warmth and comfort during the long and dark winter nights, but the red-golden flames flickering cheerfully in the fireplace in Richard's private quarters spent heat and light, competing with the color of Blondel's hair when the minstrel bent his head over his harp to coax more wistful sounds out of it. The flames lost in Richard's opinion as nothing could ever compare with Blondel's hair that adorned his head like a crown worthy to suit a king, and the desire he'd suppressed for so long flooded through his veins like liquid golden fire itself, the desire for love and passion no king was allowed to give in to and put before his duties and the needs of his subjects.

The question of his future queen had been roused again, and Richard knew that he had to contemplate it and not delay looking for his future wife in earnest for much longer, but a queen was not what his heart and body were longing for, and he'd done his best not to confront his inner demons and allow the man Richard to take control over the king, but it became harder and harder with every hour he spent in Blondel's company, bathing in his innocent admiration and gratitude.

“My King Richard?” Blondel had put his harp down, looking questioningly at Richard's face. The king tried to smile at him, but Blondel had become his confidant and the person knowing him better than anybody else in this world – except for his mother perhaps – and Richard could never hide his true feelings from him.

“Everything's fine, Blondel. I apologize for not having listened to you properly. You're singing for me although your throat is still sore from yesterday, so the least I can do is gift you with my undivided attention,” he said, but Blondel shook his head. 

“Please don't apologize for being human like everyone of us, sire. I would love to ease your mind and your worries though. A shared burden weighs less than a burden you have to carry alone, and your sad expression makes my heart ache for you.”

“The burden of my unkingly and very human desires is nothing I would ever want to put on your narrow shoulders, my friend,” Richard murmured, avoiding Blondel's eyes, but the minstrel placed his hand upon his knee and smiled up at him. 

“My shoulders might be slim, but they are much stronger than they look like. Sharing your burdens with you will never be a weight too heavy for me to carry it with ease and joy.”

They looked each other in the eyes for a long moment, and Richard could never tell later who of them moved first, whether it was Blondel stretching to reach for him or if it was actually him bending down to meet Blondel's soft lips halfway, but he assumed that it actually didn't really matter as Blondel's passionate kiss left no doubts that his shining golden minstrel longed for him as much as Richard longed for him.

*~*~*

Blondel was a welcome weight in his arms when Richard carried him over to his bedroom a few minutes later, his slim body cradled safely in Richard's strong warrior arms. He reached for Richard when the king gently lowered him down onto his royal bed, and the expression of uttermost trust on his still so youthful and yet so male and mature features was the most precious gift Richard had ever received.

Blondel might be nothing more than a slave like Wamba, bereft of his freedom by cruel monsters that had called themselves nobles, but his trust and love meant more to the King of England than anything else had ever meant to him, and he finally really understood the deep bond between Cedric and Wamba and what they meant to each other. He'd saved Blondel like Cedric had saved Wamba, but Blondel had done the same for him like Wamba had saved his master in so many ways as well, and in this moment Richard would gladly give up his crown and his throne to seat Blondel in the saddle of his steed before him and ride away with him to a place where they could be happy forever without the burden of rulership he had to carry for the rest of his life.

He sat on the edge of the bed to look down at the younger man and trace along his face with the fingers of his royal right. “Have you ever been with someone you really wanted to be with, my Blondel?” he asked, and Blondel shook his head, but the trust didn't leave his face.

“No, my King Richard. I was never given the choice whether or not I wanted to be bedded – not until tonight.”

Richard doubted that Blondel had actually been granted the small mercy of being raped in a comfortable bed at least more often than a few times perhaps, but he accepted the younger man's choice of words without commenting on it. He really didn't want to rip old and most likely still bleeding wounds open when Blondel came willingly and with so much trust into his arms for the first time.

“Are you sure that you really wants this, Blondel? I meant what I said when I told you that you'll never have to fear that I would ever touch you against your will. I must be sure that you really want this and that you're not just agreeing because you think that you're expected to show your gratitude in such an intimate way.”

“I do, my King Richard. I never had the chance to choose a lover I wanted to be with, and my desire for you to be my first true lover comes from my deep love for you, not from mistaken gratitude or a any sense of obligation.”

“You honor me with your love and your trust, my beautiful Blondel. So I shall be your first true lover then,” Richard whispered, and he didn't object when Blondel sat up to kiss him and reach for the fastenings of his clothes. He'd waited so long for this moment to come, and he pulled Blondel into his lap and lost himself in their passionate and urgent kisses, exploring the sweet cavern of Blondel's warm and soft mouth with tender eagerness and deep gratitude that this amazing being had not lost his faith in love despite all the horrible things that had been done to him. Blondel was one of the strongest people Richard had ever met, and he admired him for his inner strength and his ability to feel love after all those years of abuse, torture and humiliation. 

Richard reminded himself to be patient and gentle when their clothes didn't come off as fast as he'd like to be liberated from them. This was the first time Blondel truly consented to lie with another man, and it was upon him to show his golden minstrel the wonders of love and passion. Blondel probably knew much more about the act itself than Richard would ever know about it, but he knew nothing about the pleasures of making love and allowing another man to take him with care and tenderness. Nobody had ever made love to him, he'd always been raped and tortured, and it was upon Richard to turn his terrible memories into at least some good ones.

Blondel made a small sound in the back of his throat when they were finally naked, and he didn't hesitate when Richard pulled him into his arms and kissed him again, daring to loosen the reins of his overwhelming desire for the beautiful young man a little bit at last. Blondel was eager and kissed him back, and Richard was pleased when his golden minstrel showed enough boldness to explore his body, caressing the scars all those countless battles and fights had carved into his still strong and well-toned body. Richard was in his late thirties already, but his muscles were still strong and hadn't lost their shape, and Blondel's heated and admiring glances as he let his eyes travel over the landscape of royal maleness proved to Richard that he didn't need to be ashamed of his body.

“You're so beautiful, my King Richard,” Blondel whispered rapturously, searching for Richard's gaze, and the king took his hand to press a kiss onto his fingers. 

“Not as beautiful as you are, my Blondel. You're the most beautiful being in the world – a treasure more precious than gold, jewels and crowns, and your love and trust mean more to me than lands and titles and power will ever do. Let me love you and show you how it can be,” he murmured against the knuckles of Blondel's fingers, fingers that were not only skilled when it came to making his harp sing for his king, but also when it came to making Richard moan with his tender ministration as he went back to stroking Richard's burning flesh.

The king took his time to learn the secrets of Blondel's lithe body and his reactions to his caresses by heart, and he wasn't content until his golden minstrel was writhing with desire on the sheets for him. He let go of Blondel's thoroughly kissed mouth for a moment to stretch his arm and reach for the small pot with thick oil that would smooth the way and allow Richard to take the sweet young man without causing him pain, and he claimed Blondel's lips in another deep kiss when he touched his entrance with a slick finger for the first time, not letting himself be rushed by Blondel's hoarse whisper that he was used to taking another man inside his body without any preparation.

“I promised you to be your first lover, my beautiful Blondel, and your pleasure means more to me than mine. I won't just mount you like a rutting bull,” Richard said, silencing Blondel's protest with his hot lips and mirroring the gentle motions of his finger with his tongue until Blondel relaxed beneath him and buried his fingers in Richard's hair to pull him closer and deepen their ardent kiss, his weak protest about the delay of their coupling dying in his throat when the king found his most sensitive spot to stroke it and draw guttural sounds of pleasure from him. 

“This is how it should be between lovers – how it will always be between you and me, my sweet minstrel,” Richard murmured against his swollen lips, feeling proud and happy like he hadn't felt ever since he'd won his first tournament and gotten his accolade. 

Blondel surrendered himself to the king's gentle ministration and the pleasure coursing through him oh so sweetly, and Richard lost all tracks of time while he prepared his eager lover for their first time. It didn't take long until he could insert three fingers smoothly and without meeting any resistance, and the ache in his hard manhood and the feeling of Blondel's desire for him weeping milky droplets of desire against his abdomen urged him on to finally sheathe himself in Blondel's willing and pliant body and give both of them what they'd craved for so long.

“May I, my King Richard?” Blondel asked, looking up at him with a smile, and Richard nodded around the lump in his throat and held his breath when Blondel touched the hard proof of his desire for him with tender fingers to apply the fragrant oil on his throbbing length, stroking up and down on his proud sword with an expression of wonder and sheer joy. “I need you, Richard, please make me yours,” he whispered, using Richard's name without his title for the first time, and Richard's throat tightened with gratitude and a wave of deep love for the amazing young man in his arms.

The crown pressing down so heavily on him didn't allow him to love Blondel the way he longed to love him – openly and without any secrets – and the knowledge that Blondel would never demand more from him than he could give him made him feel humble and almost ashamed. He didn't deserve Blondel's love and trust, but he was grateful that he had both, and he carefully pushed into his beautiful lover, watching him closely for any sign of discomfort or pain. When he found nothing of this he pushed further, stroking Blondel's face and kissing him until he was buried deep inside him and not the thinnest sheet of parchment would fit between them any longer.

Richard paused for long seconds, the beauty of this magical moment taking his breath away. It was Blondel who pulled him out of his marveling as he wound his long legs around Richard's midsection and moved his hips in invitation, encouraging his king to show him his love in the way they both needed it the most in their desperate desire for each other.

Richard bent his head with a sigh and kissed his minstrel as he set up a slow and steady rhythm that gave Blondel time to adjust to his size and his thrusts. Blondel moved against him without hesitation or reluctance, and he didn't try to hold back the small sounds of pleasure that escaped him whenever Richard found his sweet spot, brushing over it with the wet tip of his hard sword. Blondel's manhood was trapped between their sweaty bodies, rubbing over the steel-like muscles of Richard's abdomen, and sensing Blondel's pleasure and arousal spurred the king on and made his blood boil in his veins.

“You're mine, Blondel! Mine alone!” Richard growled at his lips, and Blondel moaned for him and arched his back in surrender and need. “Yes, I am, my King Richard. Yours alone forever.”

Words failed the king at the love and trust that was audible in Blondel's hoarse promise, and the hot waves of lust capturing his body erased every coherent thought and made him move faster and faster, chasing his release with hard and deep thrusts into Blondel's tight channel. His need was urgent and painful in its intensity, but his desire to feel Blondel's ecstasy was even stronger, and he shifted his weight and braced his left arm against the mattress to wrap his royal right around Blondel's leaking cock and stroke him to completion before he would be too occupied with his own lust to think of the young man's pleasure and satisfaction.

Blondel was gasping and moaning for him, and he had never sounded sweeter and more beautiful to the king, his breathless cries not a sign of pain and despair but sounds of uttermost pleasure – reassuring Richard that his lover was willing and very much enjoying himself.

It took Richard only a few more thrusts and strokes and another shift of the angle he thrust into him with until Blondel reached his height, and the expression of surprise and pure bliss on Blondel's handsome features were evidence enough for his passionate royal lover that this was truly the first time that the young man experienced pleasure and ecstasy in the arms of another man. Blondel hadn't been a virgin when he'd come into Richard's bed, not in the usual sense of the meaning at least, but knowing that he was the first man who'd made Blondel come and find satisfaction filled Richard's heart with joy and happiness and was all he needed. He'd been the first lover Blondel had actually wanted to lie with, and he was the one who'd shown the beautiful young man that there was much more about intimate encounters than only pain and torture.

Sensing Blondel's pleasure spilling hot and wet all over his fingers threw Richard over the edge, and he succumbed himself to the intense waves of ecstasy of his own climax, pumping his seed against Blondel's cramping walls and growling his triumph and satisfaction against Blondel's damp throat.

Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids, and he needed a long time to become aware of his surroundings again and move to the side because his heavy weight was almost crushing the younger man. Blondel curled himself up against Richard's side in sleepy contentment, and Richard chuckled and used the one of the corners of the blankets to clean both of them up before pulling Blondel into his arms and stroke his tousled red-blond hair absentmindedly.

“I should leave you before someone will notice that I spent the night with you, my king,” Blondel murmured, already half asleep, and Richard placed a gentle kiss onto his temple. “Stay with me. Hubert is the only one allowed to enter these rooms, and I can trust him with my secrets.”

“Yes, he's a kind man,” Blondel agreed. “So you want me to stay, sire?”

“Do you still have to ask this question, my Blondel?” Richard said with a raised eyebrow, and Blondel lifted his head from his shoulder to steal a kiss from him and gift him with one of his rare lopsided smiles.

“No, my king.” He settled down again, curling himself up in Richard's strong arms like a purring tomcat, and Richard pulled him against his broad frame and closed his eyes, drifting asleep to Blondel's soft breathing.

Richard didn't know what the future would bring and which lady would finally become his wife and England's next queen, but one thing he knew for sure. His love and desire would always belong to Blondel, his sweet young minstrel with the red-golden hair, amber-golden eyes and the most beautiful voice in the world.

Blondel might be a slave by his state, but he was noble by his heart and mindset, worthy a king's love and desire like only few people were, and Richard's love and desire for him would never end, because true love didn't care about origin and status, only about the heart of the one you loved.

This was a lesson Richard had learned when he'd witnessed the strong bond of love between Lord Cedric and Wamba, and he would never forget again what they had done for him – even though they would probably never know about it and that Richard had found his own happiness just because of them.

Blondel was his forever from this night on, and his love was all Richard had ever truly desired.


End file.
